A Timeless Classic
by Meanders01
Summary: A series of one shot AUs, based in different time periods, places and occasionally, different books/films/TV programs, focussing on different characters. It's more fun than it sounds.
1. 1912

**1912**

Deryn wasn't technically a stow-away, in that she had a ticket. However, the ticket was for a different ship. She'd had to near enough smuggle herself onto the Titanic, after realizing this, but it wasn't her fault the little boat she'd been put – no, forced – onto had been pushed towards the wrong barking sailing ship.  
Third Class was cramped, sure, and she didn't technically have a cabin, but it wasn't too bad. Plus, at least she was going to America, even if it was on a different tub to Jaspert's. They'd miscalculated running away to sea quite badly. Still, at least she no longer had to wear petticoats; the cotton shirt and trousers were so much easier to use, and she felt safer as a boy.  
Deryn wandered along the corridor, only slightly lost, towards where she presumed the canteen would be. She'd been on the boat four – or perhaps five – days, and if you could say one thing for it, it was that the food was hot. She'd began to get used to the rolling of the deck, managing to remain upright most of the time, and was already accustomed to the steady, constant chug of the engines as the boat dragged itself across the Atlantic.

Alek had spent almost all the time since arriving on the boat in his cabin. He was over the seasickness by now, but he still had to contend with- His mother and father had just dropped out of the world. He was accompanied by Otto most of the time, and Hoffman and Bauer remained in the cabin too, so he wasn't alone, but in some ways he would of preferred that he was. Count Volger, Alek's father's best friend, and now apparently his guardian flicked in and out; he was a diplomat and currently attempting to free Alek from what was now his status; fugitive.  
Alek had accepted this calmly. He had be numb after being told about his parents, and so had allowed himself to be dragged out of their Kent mansion and down to the docks where this boat was moored with relatively fuss. He'd recovered rather more since then, but his head was still reeling and any thought of his parents made his vision blur red. Anger and guilt, mostly. He didn't follow politics, but he knew his father was important – the ambassador to Austria – and he knew it was needless.  
The boat buckled, and creaked, and Alek fell of his bed (he'd been lounging on it for all of the day) with a loud and worrying 'thunk'. Perhaps it was the boat though; it was too loud and metallic for it to have been him. Otto, who had also fallen got up and rushed over to him, the floor slipping from beneath his feet. Alek watched, slightly blearily. He was pulled up, and back onto the bed, where Otto inspected his head.  
"Just bruising."  
Alek realized he was saying this to the other two, who had approached. Volger was still out.

Deryn managed to remain upright, but the wall which she staggered into did assist with that. In front of her, a boy whom she vaguely recognised stumbled out of a cabin door and she headed towards him, extending her hand. He grasped it and, puffing, pulled himself up.  
"Thanks," he said, breathlessly, not looking at her, but instead leaning back on the wall, looking towards his feet as he attempted to regain his breath.  
"It's fine." she answered, and paused. "Eugene Newkirk?"  
"Uh huh."  
"Thought so. We were talking the other night. About boats, and engineering. Your mother doesn't like them."  
He didn't answer, but appeared to have regained his breath, so Deryn put an arm under his arms, and hoisted him up.  
"C'mon," she said, and he pulled away from her.  
"I can walk."  
"Alright then." They set off, along the corridor, towards the entrance to third class, where a gang of people were already crowding.

A long while later, after several unreassuringly noises echoed through the ship, Volger returned.  
"Come along, Alek," he said briskly. "We must get you to the life boats." He had a scroll under one arm, and he quickly darted into his chambers, and came out again with a leather bag, which was full and clanged slightly. He grabbed Alek by the shoulders and urgently steered him out the door, looking over his shoulder at the three men remaining.  
"Come along!"  
Through the ship they went, along corridors and past doors from which other first class passangers were flooding; someone was yelling about the lifeboats and an emergency. As people burst up, onto the deck and into the night, the crush thickened; Alek was momentarily pulled from Volger's grasp, but the man took hold of the back of his jacket, and propelled him forward, past bewildered looking people, many of whom were in their night garments.

A sudden burst of people from one of the third class doors made Alek leap backwards, and for a moment Volger's grip on his collar loosened, but was quickly regained – and tightened. A blond boy looked around, on tiptoes, and began to make his way towards the lifeboats too, another boy in tow behind him.  
Volger pushed further forward, and was glared at by a lady in a bowler hat and a basket of eggs, but continued regardless, and – in only a short amount of time – was at the edge of the deck, where the life boats were being filled. A near-empty one sat nearby, and Volger pushed Alek into it, flung the bag in too, then climbed in himself. Otto, Hoffman and Bauer followed; Bauer looked sick and pale.

It was only then that it occurred to Alek to ask what was going on, but as Volger was about to answer, a loud bang filled the air, and the crowds of people struggling to reach a life boat panicked as one and sped up, flooding forward. The bowler-hat woman climbed in and sat primly at the other end of the boat. Alek was pushed up to the edge of the lifeboat as people entered; the edge nearest the deck.  
There was a surge of people, and a man standing at the bow of the lifeboat, dressed in a sailor's uniform, did something with a pulley and began to lower the boat. Alek scanned the deck lazily; a sudden feeling of detachment from these pushing, desperate masses had washed over him.

Newkirk had managed to get in front of Deryn, if only slightly, and was heading for an almost full lifeboat, she following quickly. He'd reached it, and was climbing in, when a group of ladies in silk and lace nightgowns pushed through into it. Newkirk, already in the boat, turned round, and Deryn saw the grin leave his face. She was pushed backwards, and stumbled, a crush of people pushing on her on all sides, until she felt the railings on the edge of the deck. She couldn't turn round, nor tell if the lifeboat was still there, and so stood still, calmly thinking about how she was going to die-  
There was a tug on her shirt, and suddenly she was pulled backwards, tumbling into a lifeboat a foot or two lower. A surprised looking boy was sat there; bewildered by what he had obviously done.

Deryn grinned.

* * *

_**A/N:** _I'm sure this isn't entirely historically accurate, but I wrote most of it using the film Titanic, which I haven't seen for three or four years, as reference. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.


	2. 1813

**1813**

"Miss Lilit?" Mr Matthews, tall and dark, looked down at the young woman sat in his waiting area. The young lady – who was in fact the Miss Lilit in question – arose, and dipped a small, slightly unwilling curtsey.

"Good afternoon," she replied. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

A look of doubt flickered across Mr Matthew's face, momentarily. "Indeed, Miss Lilit – oh, and do excuse me for my informality, but I was never given a second name."

Lilit dismissed this, with a nonchalant wave of her gloved hand, and continued. "I must admit to having been a fan and patron of your magazine for many years, sir, and especially the articles written by Miss Adela Rogers. She is a great inspiration of mine."

"Indeed. She is a most accomplished woman." Mr Matthews adjusted his necktie. He was feeling most uncomfortable in the presence of this Miss Lilit, whom he had not desired to meet at all. Her strangely casual manner was most off-putting, and there was no denying she was pleasing to one's eye – and well-connected too, he knew, having been pressured into agreeing to her visit, so why was she not at home, preparing to enter into matrimony. With those afore connections, she could surely engage a land owner's interest; perhaps a sir. Or maybe someone with a more impressive title; if she spoke to the right people. And they neglected to notice that accent, which was rather foolish to listen to.

"Yes," Lilit agreed, an earnest look on her face. She seemed ready to speak further, so Mr Matthews interrupted.

"Enough, I think, about Miss Rogers – who has gone back to her native country for three or four months. I believe you came here with a proposition?"

"Indeed," said Lilit. "Or maybe you would call it a request? Perhaps we could go into your office to discuss it."

"Of course," Mr Matthews made his way to the door, and held it open. His office was small and mostly taken up by the large central desk, covered in papers which he had been looking over; the articles for the following week's issue of the magazine. However, the walls were lined by red leather binders, full of previous copies, and there was a large window, which looked out onto Fleet Street.

"I suppose it is a difficult profession; being the sub-editor of such a successful pamphlet." Lilit commented, as she sat down in the indicated seat.

"Indeed," answered Mr Matthews, adjusting his necktie once more. Whilst he would comfortably correct somebody – telling them that he was not, in fact, 'the' editor, hard as that may be to comprehend – he much disliked this young girl knowing his inferiority. He seated himself opposite her. "How may I help you, Miss Lilit?"

Lilit bowed her head slightly, and looked down at her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap. "Mr Matthews, you may see this as impertinence, but I would like to ask you for a job, perhaps as a writer of brief and true to life articles? I view journalism as a way to inspire, and encourage truth, and that has been an ambition of mine since a young age; my father-"

"Miss Lilit, whilst I am sure you are an admirable young woman, I hardly think a career in journalism would suit anyone like yourself. Perhaps periodicals would suit you more - or perhaps writing novellas - once you have a little more experience-"

"By 'someone like myself', Mr Matthews," replied Lilit icily, "Do you mean someone of my age, or someone of my gender? Or perhaps there is some other obstacle you object to? Because I find what you are suggesting quite offensive."

"Miss Lilit, whilst your feelings may be objectable, it is for your own wellbeing that I decline any offer of volunteering from you, and equally, I do not intend to offer any job, however petty, to you." He drew himself up. "If you would please shut the door on your way out?"

Lilit stood gracefully, and looked across at Mr Matthews; he was a tall man, who was eye level with her, despite the fact he was seated. "Thank you for this opportunity, sir." she said, and left the room.

However, as she was doing so, she met someone in the doorway. "Pardon me," she muttered, still full of ill will, and it was only a little later, whilst she had picked up her skirts and was walking down one of London's less pleasant roads, that it occurred to her that the person with whom she had collided with had too been wearing skirts.

Three weeks or so had passed, and Lilit was now employed under the guidance of the sympathetic Miss Adela Rogers, who had returned from America earlier than had been planned – she found it dull with little to divert - and had persuaded Mr Matthews to allow her to keep an assistant. It was a satisfactory end.


	3. 1951

**1951 _or_ Five Go off on a Picnic**

"Isn't it a splendid day?" said Eugene, smiling at his friends, Deryn, Aleksander and Lilit.

"Oh yes!" replied Alek. "And it's jolly good to see you all again. I simply couldn't wait for the summer hols to begin."

"Neither could I," agreed Deryn, who was a real tomboy, and dressed in boy clothes all the time. "It was a pretty rum term at school. I wish I'd still managed to stay in old St Lev's."

"Although it was brilliant when old Roberta Fitzroy was chased out of the dorm window!" exclaimed Lilit, who went to the same boarding school as Deryn.

"Oh yes!" Deryn grinned.

They were sat outside Alek's Uncle's Ernst house, where they were all staying for the first two weeks of the summer. It was set in a simply lovely piece of countryside, but it was rather quiet, and the four had rather little to do.

"I say," said Alek, suddenly "How about we go over to the old fort? We could take a picnic and give Bovril a good walk."

Bovril, Alek and Deryn's puppy perked up, hearing his name, and raced towards where they were sitting on the grass.

"There's an old fort?" asked Deryn.

"Yes," replied Alek "It once belonged to a prince. It's a bit of a ruin now, I'm afraid, but still jolly fun to climb on!"

"I say, what a good idea!" exclaimed Lilit "On the way, we can tell you all about Adela climbing out the window!"

"I'll make the picnic." offered Eugene.

"We can go this afternoon, and have a picnic tea?" suggested Deryn, who was rather practical.

"This will be brilliant!" said Alek. "I'll just go and tell Uncle Ernst."

He disappeared inside.

"Trust Alek to live near a castle!" laughed Deryn, patting Bovril on the head.

"This is a very nice old pile too, isn't it?" said Lilit, talking about Unle Ernst's house. Suddenly, she exclaimed; "I say; old Eugene hasn't fallen asleep, has he?"

Eugene had, and so the girls stifled their giggles, and continued their conversation in whispers, until Lilit made a daisy chain, which she hung around Eugene's neck, causing both girls to laugh in a most unladylike way, and wake poor old Eugene up.

"I say, chaps, what's going on?" asked Alek, coming back outside. "Uncle Ernst says we can go to the fort later, and maybe even camp! It's our land, you know."

"Wow!" said Eugene "That's lucky! What a jolly afternoon this will be!"

After lunch had been eaten, and knapsacks had been packed with tents and food, the four set out for the fort with Bovril trotting along too. Alek knew the way, and guided them through farmyards and fields. Lilit hummed some old shanties, and they told one another funny stories about school.

It wasn't far to the fort, and they soon arrived. It was made up of one tall tower, which was very overgrown appeared ready to crumble at any moment, and lots of other rocks like parts of walls and maybe foundations, scattered around, along with lots of large bushes.

"I say," said Deryn "It's splendid."

"Isn't it just," replied Alek. "I used to come here with Mother and Father when I was small and father and I would pretend I was a prince and had to defend this fort. It was jolly exciting!"

"I think it's rather creepy," said Eugene nervously "I'm not sure I want to spend the night here."

"Don't be such a scaredy cat." replied Lilit "It'll be like that time we camped by Istanbul Lake, where we all first met. That was a jolly fun adventure!"

"I wasn't there." said Eugene. "I was still at school."

"Oh, but do you remember that time," said Alek quickly "When we were on that school trip, and we met those journalists? That was a jolly time."

"I still want to meet that Adela girl. She sounds smashing." Lilit cut in.

"Barking spiders!" exclaimed Deryn suddenly "Are we going to have an explore or not?"

"Oh yes," said Alek "Come on!"

He led the way up a grassy bank up to the tower.

"It's very dangerous to climb up," he said "But look! There's a little room here. It hasn't got a roof, but we have tents, and the walls make it safe from the wind."

He led them into a square area besides the tower, with three and a half walls (the half had obviously once been part door, and the rest had crumbled) and, as he'd said, no roof. A bush grew in a corner of the room, but there was plenty of room.

"Splendid." said Eugene. "I think it's quite secure. We can even make it into a little home. I shall be quite content to play house here for a little while and maybe cook some food if you would like to explore?"

"Alright," said Deryn. "We'll be back soon!"

They waved at Eugene and left the room. Alek ran a little ahead of the two girls, excited as he hadn't been there in years.

"I haven't been here in years!" he said.

Suddenly, however, he stopped. There was a big hole in the ground.

"I wonder if a badger lives there." said Deryn who was a big fan of animals.

"I don't think so," said Alek leaning closer. He reached in and pulled out a gold bar. "Oh look! Treasure!"

* * *

_A/N - I am aware that this is dreadfully OOC, but don't hate me - I was writing to the genre, as apposed to fitting the genre to the characters. Which may have been a better thing to do, but I'm lazy and rarely, or possibly never, rewrite._


	4. 1924

**1924**

Deryn left one of Leviathan's many buildings, a warehouse in the centre of the city, and headed away as fast as she could, trilby pulled low over her face. She was fairly confident the gang would except her; from what Jaspert had said, getting out alive the first time was a good sign (her brother had been a member of the Minotaur for a few months now. It was odd, their being in different gangs, but one was recruiting and one wasn't. Anyway, they were allies, so it was probably safe).

It had felt as though the interrogation – in other places of work, they were simply called interviews - had gone well. No one had screamed "She's a girl!", and the only slight moment of tension had come when she'd pointed out that being Scottish was not the same as being English. Here in America, they got accents confused so easily.

Deryn was making her way back to the apartment she was currently sharing with her brother – when he was actually at home – and some other kids. They came and went at random, and she'd given up trying to keep track of them. She carried most of her belongings with her, in an old brown knapsack.  
She'd just crossed a street, when a boy of around her own age bowled into her.

"Sorry!" he cried, stumbling only slightly before running on, with a hured glance back. There was a real fear in his eyes. _His _accent was a little odd; Eastern European, maybe German? You didn't get many of them round here. She felt sorry for him though, and for a moment pondered whether to chase after him or not, whatever good that would do. However, when a thickset man came running, heading the same direction as the boy, she didn't hesitate to stick her foot out, and watched with some satisfaction as the man fell sprawling on the ground, shouting curses.

The next day, at about ten in the morning, a sharp rap came at the door of Deryn's apartment. It was opened, and a plea was issued for a 'Mister Dylan Sharp'. Hoisting her knapsack onto her shoulder, Deryn gave a quick hug to her brother, who'd returned home at some stupid time last night, and said goodbye.

She then went out to meet the person who'd come to collect her. This turned out to be a slightly awkward, ginger haired boy, maybe two years older than Deryn.

"Hi there, Mister Sharp," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Eugene, though you should prob'ly call me Mister Newkirk. They're very form'al in ol' Leviathan."

"Aye? Well, it's nice to meet you."

"Hey, you're a Brit? My Ma's from there. Then she moved to ol' Texas where I grew up, and then we backed up to this big city. She don't like the whole gang thing, but she fig'ured I'd be safer with 'em than against them, y'know. I'm not borin' you, am I? I kinda overtalk sometimes. Just shush me."

"Okay."

"Well, we betta get goin'. Say g'bye to this ol' place – you'll be stayin' with the gang now. Oh, you've been accepted by tha way! Congrat-ulat-tions."

He was speaking very fast, and Deryn had very little chance to take anything in. Especially through his accent. He'd started walking though, and Deryn followed him, down the steps and out of the building.

"It's a mighty fine place you had back there," he was saying "Very swish. Sorry to tear you away from it."

"Ah, it's fine."

"I wish I had lives in sucha fancy place."

They spent the rest of the journey, Newkirk talking and Deryn walking along beside. Eventually, though, they reached the city's docks.

"Here she is!" exclaimed Newkirk. "Home sweet home!"

"A boat?" Not just any boat either; it was like a scaled down version of a one of those metal cruise liners, but still large and impressive, making the wooden one Deryn used to sail with her father look like a dingy. She whistled through her teeth.

"Yes sir! She is called The Leviathan an' all. Don't look so concerned though, Mister – we ain't going sailing off to sea. She is permanently moored." He leaned in close to Deryn and whispered to her "Don't tell no one, but I ain't too comfortable meself with boats. But you gotta have enthusiasm or they get rid 'o ya."

"No, no, that isn't it." replied Deryn hurriedly. "I grew up on boats. I love them. Uh, yeah. I just wasn't expecting a city gang to have one."

"Well, they do. Come on aboard."

As she followed Newkirk aboard, Deryn stifled a smile. Jaspert had been insistent she join Leviathan, rather than his gang, and now she got why. He was alright, her brother.

A man was waiting for them on the deck.

"Mister Rigby, hi there!" called Newkirk. Deryn couldn't help but cringe as a scowl crossed the man's face; evidently the boy's greeting was far too informal. "This is Mr Sharp, whom you told me to go get."

"Good afternoon, Mr Rigby. My name is Der- Dylan Sharp. Sir." Deryn almost gave him the wrong name, and cursed herself under her breath. Mr Rigby, however, didn't seem to notice.

"Good. The men who spoke to you seemed to have gained a good impression of you. Apparently you passed all the designated tests with flying colours, yada, yada. I hope you live up to that."

"Aye, sir. So do I."

"Hm. Mister Newkirk will show you to your quarters. Away with you."

"Sure, sir."

Mr Rigby turned away, muttering something about taking the Texas out of the boy under his breath, and Newkirk gave Deryn a (weak) punch on the arm.

"Come on, Sharp. It'd prob'ly be best to dump ya stuff before the others get back."

A week later, and Deryn was on her first proper job. Sure, she'd been out on training and she'd collected and delivered stuff, but now she – with Newkirk beside her, for some reason they'd been partnered up for everything – was going to go to some buying.

"I can't believe they are lettin' ya do a prop'r job so fast. It took 'em maybe two months before I was allowed. That is mighty unfair."

"Newkirk, we're almost there – shut up."

"But why do you getta hold the money. Iyam responsible."

"Aye, that may be so. Now shut your face."

"Sharp-"

"Shush."

They'd reached the place they were heading; a respectable looking greengrocers. There was a bell that tinkled sweetly as they opened the door. Newkirk went in first, but hesitated on the doorstep, and Deryn was forced to give him a push. He stumbled, scowled, and stood by a shelf of cabbages. Deryn walked up to the counter.

"Excuse me, sir," she said to the man stood there. He was slightly foreign looking, though that was no oddity in the city. "I'm looking for, uh, boots."

"Is that right?" came the reply. He was foreign; no doubt. "Well, we better go upstairs. And your friend better blow."

Deryn turned to Newkirk. "Sorry. You better go back to the docks. I'll be back soon."

He shifted uncomfortably, but then nodded. "You better be back soon. It's getting' dark; they'll be locking up tha ship."

"Right. See you later."

"Yup."

He hesitated further, before leaving. The bell rang out through the empty shop.

"You bedda not be packing heat." said the man, coming out from behind the counter and changing the sign on the door to 'closed'.

"I'm not, I'm unarmed."

"You bedda be."

It didn't take long for Deryn to have collected the moonshine she came here to source. It was a small wooden crate, with a hard rope handle, and whilst it wasn't too heavy, after a week's hard work on the ship, it was an awkward thing to carry, and she made slow process. It was cold and dark by this point, a frosty night, and above Deryn's head, the moon sat, full and plump. It made even the unlit streets easy to navigate, basking all in a silvery that reflected oddly off the windows of the shops and houses Deryn passed. She wished she'd worn more than just the thin shirt and jacket, which were customary, but offered little warmth.

She reached the ship eventually, and was even warmer after her walk but – to her greatest dismay – the gangplank was up, there was no way onto it. She cursed;_ 'Barking spiders! You'd think they'd never close it, it's a gang that operates at night__'_ and put down the crate, then sat down herself on the ground, leaning against the rough wooden boards. She quickly began to get colder, and tiredness pressed upon her, seemingly from nowhere, although in reality, it was probably from the long days and nights she'd spent not feeling it, up to that point.

And, looking from a small window in the upper level of one of the warehouses on the edge of the docks, a boy was watching. And, seeing the figure slump down onto the crate, he panicked slightly. As quietly as he could, so as not to wake the others in the room, he crept to the door, opened it and went downstairs, through the warehouse and out, into the freezing air. He crossed to the figure; a slim young boy, and shook him, gently at first, and then harder, until the boy sat bolt upright and snarled; "Barking spiders!"


	5. Dæmons

**Dæmons**

I only knew Deryn Hohenberg-Sharp towards the end of her life. She was, I am sorry to say, all alone by that point, and I like to think the visits from me and Prisian cheered her up. Certainly Prisian and her dæmon, a loris named Bovril - or at least shortened to that – got on. She was a strong woman, and still intelligent and funny. I enjoyed talking to her, and I enjoyed what she told me.

She told me stories of her youth, and an exciting one it was, aided by a stack of moleskin notebooks full of drawings. Some were of machinery, and zeppelins, and buildings in faraway places, and some were of people in all manner of dress, but the majority were dæmons.

Most of these were quick sketches, of the creatures in movement (and what a range of creatures they were – as a girl, she'd flown all over the world, seen everything worth seeing, met everyone worth knowing). Some, however, were more in depth, studied pieces, presumably gained from knowing them longer. Sometimes, the same dæmon would appear multiple times, in a variety of poses; an bullfrog was one I remember noticing. Then there was another loris, like hers – in fact, I had originally thought it was Bovril – which appeared over and over. This was her husband.

His name was Aleksander, and theirs is a love story. A good one too, with fighting and adventures and mistakes and voyaging. He was a prince from a land across the sea and she was a girl pretending to be – it's all very Shakespeare – a boy. It was quite the story, and those Saturday mornings I used to spend with her, in her overly clean, under personalized room came to be one of the highlights of my week. I'd almost like to set it down, but I feel I would hardly do it justice, and besides; I'd be taking credit for something that was entirely their accomplishment.

When she left – and please don't fret, it was peaceful – I found myself written into the will. Not for anything of conventional value, but something worth a lot to me. As I write, a pile of black covered books sit on my bookshelf. The work in them is of artistic merit, beautiful to look at and detailed as anything – there is little doubt about that. But I enjoy them for the stories they bring back. They remind me of an old woman with a brilliant past, who – with only her unsettled dæmon as a companion, ran away into the skies.

_Labels from the notebooks – if anyone knows these people, let me know so I can pass on the news of Deryn's passing:_

_Loris – Alek_

_I can't work out what his actually settled on, but possibly a gull of some kind - Jaspert_

_Emu – Dr B (the boffin?)_

_A duck (possibly a drake/male) - Newkirk_

_A lemur of some kind, ring tailed – Lilit_

_There was also a few others mentioned, although I couldn't work out what their dæmons were; _

_The King (unlikely), Count V, Sophia, Mr Malone, Adela Rodgers, Tesla (the scientist?), and though there are a few more, the rest are scrawled mostly._


End file.
